


Patchin’ Up

by WincestSounds (Cammerel)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Hurt!Sam, M/M, RP, Wincest - Freeform, hurt!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:28:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cammerel/pseuds/WincestSounds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam come back from a hunt, injured and beaten down, but they take care of one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patchin’ Up

The rumble of the Impala settled finally and Dean turned like a stiff board, opening the driver’s side down and climbing out. Worn, dusted boots lifted his shaky legs as he stood, using his arms on the hood of the car and the window frame to lift himself bodily from the vehicle. He climbed out, shutting the door with his side barely inches from it and he moved to their motel room with disjointed steps.

The younger Winchester pulled his aching, beaten body from the Impala, wincing as he tore the gash on his side a little more, “Fuck,” He muttered to himself. Sam clasped his right hand over the wound tightly to keep himself from bleeding too much before he had a chance to fix it. He stumbled after his brother, working his legs harder than usual to keep from falling over.

Dean looked back and moved to Sam, tucking his shoulder under his brother’s left armpit and wrapping his hand around the larger man’s back to help carry him. They moved as a unit, Dean could feel the blood filling his boot, soaking his sock and getting between his toes; They needed to get inside fast or he’d start pouring out on the concrete below them.

Sam grunted in pain as Dean helped him into the room, noticing that his brother was just as bad or worse off than Sam was and yet Dean was the one pulling both of their weights. That’s the way Dean always was though, he thought, always putting Sam before himself.

“Go sit down,” The older Winchester said, freeing Sam from his grip halfway to the bed and he turned back, checking behind them for blood and locking up when he found none. He moved to his duffel, grabbing out the salt and coating the foot of the door and the window sills in the room.

Sam’s sat down, his whole body shaking as he tried containing a yell. He had both hands on his gash at this point, the hot red liquid seeping out between his fingers, if he put any more pressure on it, he’d break his ribs, “ _Dean!_ ,” He shouted weakly, knowing he’d probably pass out soon from loss of blood.

“Just one second,” Dean rasped out, shucking off his coat and moving into the bathroom. He scrubbed his hands clean, washing away the blood, dirt, and grime, before moving back out into the room. He grabbed the duffel bag again and dragged it over to Sam’s side, pilfering through and pulling out most of it’s innards, spreading them out on the ground. He settled his knees against the insides of Sam’s calves as he squatted down, pulling his brother’s shaking hands away and lifting the shirt, pressing a thick pad of gauze against the wound, “Hold that still, okay, baby boy?”

Sam nodded, “Yeah,” He pressed the gauze firmly onto the cut, his whole body winced in pain. He bit his tongue to keep from yelling, he wanted Dean to think he was stronger than this, wanted him to be _proud_.

The older Winchester took Sam’s free arm, pulling the jacket and second shirt off of it, lifting it more to get the last through. He yanked it over Sam’s head, resting his own hand on the gauze again as he shifted the clothes off his brother’s other arm, leaving him naked from waist up. “Keep holdin’ that,” Dean said again, grabbing a clean cloth from the pile and moving into the bathroom to soak it in warm water before he returned, pulling his brother’s hand away as he started wiping at the blood and grime.

The younger Winchester hissed, “Stings,” as his body tightened up, from both the pain and the close proximity of his brother. Sam could see the blood seeping through Dean’s pants, he nodded towards his leg, “How bad is it?” He questioned, as he watched how careful Dean was with him, almost took his mind off of the pain all together.

“It don’t matter,” Dean said, brows narrowing against his own pains as his hands moved together, one hand removing the gauze as the other cleaned up the exposing skin, “You just worry about yourself, alright?”

“It _does_ matter,” He retorted firmly, trying to adjust his body slightly to see how bad it was, grimacing at the pain, “I’m not a little boy anymore, Dean, you don’t have to put me first all the time.”

Dean lifted his hand, pressing the palm to Sam’s chest firmly to hold him back, “Shut up, okay?” He said, finishing up cleaning the area around the cut and as much inside of it as he could. He reached back, grabbing the curved needle and thread, already tightened and prepared for cases like this.

“Such a stubborn ass,” He teased, resting his hand on Dean’s knee. Sam turned his head away as to give him the go ahead to sew him up, closing his eyes as he exhaled heavily.

“You’re a stubborn ass,” Dean retorted weakly and rested Sam’s hand firm against the back of the cut as he began weaving together the flesh in the front, fingers getting slippery at the tips with fresher blood.

“Good one,” The younger Winchester growled through the pain, mentally laughing at how weak his brother’s come backs were, “Just hurry, so I can get started on you.”

Dean smiled weakly as he tightened the threads together, bringing the cut closed and knotting the end of the homemade stitches. He grabbed up the washcloth again, cleaning up the bright red blood against the backdrop of his brother’s bronzed skin and putting a new pad of gauze over the wound, “You got anythin’ else immediate?”

Sam shook his head, “No, just this,” He gestured towards the wound his brother had just got done sewing up, “You gonna show me now?” He asked, squeezing his brother’s knee lightly.

“Whatever,” The older Winchester gave in, standing up and unbuttoning his pants with red fingers; They were already ruined, it didnt matter. He carefully stepped out of his shoes, pushing the pants down his thighs to expose the gaping wound just above the inside of his left knee.

“ _Christ_ , Dean,” He reached out gingerly touching his fingertips to the surrounding skin to examine how bad it was, “Go ahead and sit back down.” Sam held his hand to his own wound as he walked over to the kitchenette table and grabbed the Jack Daniels, stepping into the bathroom to grab some more clean rags before he went back to Dean. The younger Winchester crouched between his brother’s knees as he looked up at Dean warmly, “It’s your turn, big boy,” He smiled and winked at him, trying to divert his attention as he poured the alcohol on his wound.

Dean flushed, sore, bruised shoulders nearly reaching his ears as his face bunched up in preparation. He knew it was going to be bad, just not _this_ bad. He steeled himself though, relaxing and smiling; He was familiar with Sam’s hands enough, knew they’d be as gentle as humanly possible, and it comforted him at once, calming his heart and stilling his shaking legs.

The younger Winchester sopped up the dripping alcohol infused blood, dabbing gently at the open wound to clean it, constantly watching Dean to make sure he wasn’t hurting him. Sam grabbed a clean needle and thread from the bag Dean had drug over by the bed before he positioned himself to begin. He looked up, giving his brother a knowing glance and a weak smile, “Ready?” He asked, dipping his head down to kiss the tender skin near the cut.

“Yeah,” Dean breathed, eye brows rising in surprise as his guts twisted and his heart fluttered. He reached out, putting his hand on Sam’s shoulder as he nodded. “M’ready.”

Sam flashed him a quick grin before he focused on the needled, threading the head of it through the jagged edge of skin, making a criss crossing pattern. The younger Winchester would place a light kiss every once in a while to the skin surrounding the gash, more or less just trying to keep Dean’s mind off the pain as he continued to thread him closed. “How bad does it hurt?” He asked, looking up at Dean for the answer.

Dean shook his head, eyes slightly wide and cheeks red. He needed to get wounded more often, _damn_ , the things this was doing to his insides. “M’fine,” He breathed shakily, fingers moving to the back of Sam’s neck and touching his hair, “I don’t really feel it,” Which was bull, but his mind wasn’t on the pain anymore, he felt it, but he could ignore it.

“Just keep focus on me, I’m almost done,” He stammered nervously as he continued, bringing the last piece of skin together, tightening the thread. Sam grabbed a clean rag and poured some alcohol on it before dabbing around the sore area, cleaning him up the best he could. Before pulling back, he placed one last gentle kiss on the make-shift stiches, “All done.”

“Thanks,” The older Winchester stammered, fingers tucking Sam’s bangs out of his face and he sat forward again. The rest of him was probably fine, he wasn’t sure if there was anything else, but he figured he should do a once over; Just in case. Dean grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, wincing as his bruises protested.

Sam looked his brother’s torso over carefully when he pulled his shirt off, his fingers meeting his brother’s bruises. “Think we’re both gonna be sore for a while,” The younger Winchester mumbled. He brought his body closer to Dean’s, he leaned in slowly and let his lips trace the bruise on his brother’s chest, as if it would heal him somehow.

The staggering breath coming from Dean’s parted lips silenced him completely at the end and he closed his eyes, feeling the petal soft touches of Sam’s hands and lips along his skin. God, sometimes his brother was too much for his heart to handle.

He could feel Dean’s heart beating rapidly, beating on the inside of his chest like a caged animal trying to get out, “It’s just _me_ ,” He murmured against his brother’s heated skin. Though, in all fairness, Sam always found his heart doing the exact same thing when it came to Dean.

“Exactly,” Dean said and his hands moved, touching Sam’s neck and jaw, lacing through his hair as he pulled his brother up close, their lips whispers from each other’s, “What about you, your legs okay?”

“Legs are fine,” He paused, licking his lips, “Was just my rib.” The way Dean touched him, made him feel like fireworks were going off under his skin.

“Good,” The older Winchester leaned in, taking Sam’s lips between his, teeth grazing the soft skin, tongue licking at them as he breathed, elbows resting under the sides of his brother’s collar bone as he pulled Sam close between his legs.

Sam winced as the sharp pain tugged at his ribs, not taking his lips from his brother’s. He rested his arms lazily around Dean’s waist, rubbing circles, lines and zig zags into the skin on his lower back, anything to touch him. “How did we mess up so bad?” He asked, breaking the kiss, concerned that maybe they were getting a little too rusty, or maybe that they were usually a little _too_ focused on one another and not focused enough on the task at hand.

“Tough case, I guess,” Dean suggested, skin tingling under his brother’s sure hands, “I think we’re allowed a rough one, every now an’ then. Spices things up.” The smile tugged his lips, “I don’t know about you, but I could use a shower or somethin’ to get off this grime, or at least some kinda rub down, get the dirt outta my creases.”

“Should hinder the risk of an infection a little,” The younger Winchester shrugged slightly, using Dean’s good knee as leverage to help himself up, pressing a kiss to his brother’s nose before he stood up completely.

The older Winchester stood stiffly, taking Sam’s arm first and pulling him down into a soft, only slightly heated kiss before breaking away. Getting hurt physically was always only temporary, it was the ones that happened on the inside that he _actually_ worried about getting infected. He kept that comment to himself though, simply smiling as his fingers touched Sam’s jaw and he threw his brother a suggestive look before walking into the bathroom.

Sam followed Dean into the bathroom slowly, his whole body protesting against the movements. He knew the hot water would help ease his muscles though, it’d make them _both_ feel better. Despite looking like he was just dragged back from Hell, he winked at Dean before he started unbuttoning his pants.


End file.
